


Comets Burn For Their Own Light

by afterandalasia



Series: Femslash February 2014 [8]
Category: Peter Pan (1953)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: disney_kink, Developing Relationship, F/F, Femslash February, Growing Up, Magic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Motherhood, Neverland (Peter Pan), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows that in Neverland you don't have to grow up - unless, that is, you want to. Sometimes people have their reasons for wanting to grow up, and Neverland is wise enough to accomodate such things. But not everything goes so neatly to plan, and sometimes stories lead their players down unexpected paths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comets Burn For Their Own Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teaandhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=teaandhoney).



> For the great anon at the Disney Kink Meme who asked for an AU in which the Darlings don't return home, where Wendy grows up to be a mother and Tiger Lily grows up to be a leader, with gradual Wendy/Tiger Lily. While writing the fic, I was playing around with style a bit, and the POV is rather influenced by the actual Peter Pan books themselves (though a poor imitation of J. M. Barrie, I will admit) in places, segueing to a more 'grown-up' narrative voice when it is just Tiger Lily and Wendy. Hopefully that worked somewhat.
> 
> The portrayal of the Native American characters in this is based on that of the book and the Disney film... tempered in places, I hope. I know that it is hugely inaccurate, but I can only apologise for the mashing together of the traditions of different tribes, the canon-based use of the word 'Indian', and other assorted issues that come with writing Peter Pan canonverse fic.
> 
> Even though February is over, since these prompts were made for Femslash February I'm going to continue adding them to my series.

As everyone in Neverland knew, Peter was always right. He knew this, he liked to say, because he was the cleverest boy in all of Neverland, and he was sure to tell people this often, because it was no good being so frightfully clever if people are not aware of it. So when Peter said that nobody ever had to grow up in Neverland, he was of course right, because Neverland knew that Peter wanted to be young forever and that his Lost Boys did as well.  
  
Even Peter would acknowledge, though, that there are some things that it takes a girl to understand, and one such thing is that there are different sorts of being right. And so it stands to reason that it would be a girl - or rather, more than one girl - who came to understand that just because you did not have to grow up did not mean that you could not. Because Neverland was, after all, a place where you could do anything that you ever wanted.  
  
At first, Peter was not sure what he should do about Wendy when she started to grow up. His Lost Boys had a choice: to return to the normal world and be boring and bankers and normal, or to join the Pirates and fight Peter and his Lost Boys as if they had never been one of them. But Wendy was not one of his Lost Boys, because she was a girl, and he had not made up any rules for girls.   
  
"Well, Peter," she said to him in that amused tone which made him feel like she was laughing on in the inside, "I can't very well be your mother if I'm only eleven forever, can I?"  
  
So Peter sat for a very long time on the highest branch of the tallest tree in Neverland, and thought. There wasn't really anything in the stories that said how old or young mothers had to be, but when he had been in the normal world.   
  
And finally he made his decision, and came back and haughtily informed everyone that Wendy could grow up if she wanted, because she was a girl and she wanted to be their mother, and would not hear any of the Boys arguing about it. They all agreed, though, because they knew that Wendy would make a very good mother indeed, and that evening Wendy let them stay up particularly as late as they wished and they all had hot cocoa and did not even have to brush their teeth afterwards.  
  
So time passed, and Wendy grew up to be a splendid mother to the Lost Boys, and though she was sorry to see some of them grow up and leave there were always new ones taking their places, and most importantly her brothers were still among them.  
  
Quite often, she did not sleep at all, because everyone knows that mothers do not have to sleep and are there at any time of the night to soothe a child from their bad dreams or fetch a glass of water. Besides, it gave her plenty of time to read the books that Peter occasionally bought her from the human world, having found them in parks or on pavements, and to sew clothes or mend the socks of the Lost Boys, for any group of boys will always have socks that need mending. And she did not often go with them to the pow-wows with the Indians any more, because it was important that they had time away from their mother where they could play and be with just the other boys. As a mother, Wendy understood this very well indeed.  
  
  
  
  
  
Far away on the other side of Neverland, the Indians lived without always following the rules of the Peter Pan. This was largely because Peter did not think of them all that much, because he usually had other more important things to think about like what games should be played or what schemes should be created to fight the pirates. But like the Lost Boys, the Indians did not need to grow up, and since babies are usually content to be babies and children want to be children, and adults do not want to grow old and die, nobody really grew up in the Indian Village either. And so it was that they could go about their business and gather the crops that always seemed to be ready for harvest, and have their pow-wows and enjoy times of peace with the Lost Boys while they lasted.  
  
Of course, Peter was as variable as the clouds, and so sometimes the Indians were at peace with the Lost Boys, and sometimes they were at war with them. But at least it leant some interest to life.  
  
Tiger Lily had been a child for really rather a long time by the time that the Darling children came to Neverland. In many ways, things did not change all that much, because many children came and went from Neverland, but Tiger Lily remembered the Darling children because one amongst them was a _girl_ , and that was most definitely a sort of change. Of course, this had been at much the same time as she had been kidnapped by the pirates while they were in search of Peter. Perhaps if only one thing or the other had happened, it would not have seemed so interesting, but when both happened together she started to think more and more about change, and even about growing up.  
  
It happened quite slowly, really, so much so that the other people of her tribe did not notice it at first. But Tiger Lily was quick and Tiger Lily was smart and Tiger Lily was determined, and as time passed Tiger Lily became an adult as well. And by then she was quicker and smarter than many of her people, and she had watched her father the chief for many years, and somehow she came to fulfil the role as the leader of her people.  
  
Once she took the seat of chief at a pow-wow, war bonnet trailing its feathers down her back, the role was hers. Peter had seen her as chief, and everyone knew that in Neverland Peter was always right. And so it was that the Indian Village had a new chief, and her name was Tiger Lily, and suddenly the Lost Boys found it far harder to win their battles against the Indians. But Peter liked that, because he liked a challenge, and Tiger Lily liked it because she was proud of her people. And Neverland changed just a little, because at heart Peter was still a child and could change things quite seamlessly.  
  
  
  
  
  
Wendy could not say how long she had been in Neverland, after a while, because it did not really matter. Neverland was always just as Peter wished it, and in a way time did not really matter. She knew, though, that Peter had just made another resounding victory over Captain Hook and the pirates, helped by the Indians.  
  
"And," said Peter, delight in his eyes, "this time _they_ are coming to us to celebrate! Tonight!"  
  
"Oh, Peter!" replied Wendy, half-scolding. "You didn't give me any warning! How am I supposed to make a feast enough for them?"  
  
But everyone knows that mothers can make dinner out of absolutely nothing at all, and by the time that the party of Indian warriors arrived Wendy had managed to create an absolutely splendid feast of jelly and ice cream and ham and jam tarts and all sorts of food that could be eaten without having to use a knife and fork at all, and lashing of corporation pop. Which, of course, the Lost Boys thought to be thoroughly splendid.  
  
They fell to discussing whether they should do their own warpaint or ask for the Indians to do it, which of course led to Slightly trying to pull off Curly's tail, and Michael making avid, if rather improper, use of his umbrella as a bludgeon. With a fond sigh, Wendy waded into the fray, retrieving Michael's ragged umbrella and peeling the boys apart to go and sit on their logs. She was just separating the twins from their headlock as a crow sounded from behind them, and turned with a smile to see Peter returning. The tramping behind him indicated that the Indians were following on foot.  
  
"You could have helped them to fly, you know," she said. Peter stuck his thumbs in his ears and waggled his fingers at her. He was already wearing paint, bold stripes on his cheeks and nose in a red fit to clash with his hair.  
  
She was ready to apologise to their visitors for the behaviour of all of the boys when she actually turned to see the party of eight or so Indians who had come, but her words caught in her mouth as she did so. Luckily the boys did not notice, because it was not at all like a mother to not know what to say.  
  
The last time that Wendy had seen the Indians had been many years ago now, and their Chief had still been a large man with very flushed cheeks and a huge warbonnet. Now, the person directing the others to stop and greet the Lost Boys with a stern “How” was a woman - a very pretty one at that, with long black hair in two tight braids and intricate beading around the upper part of her buckskin dress. It took Wendy a moment to recognise her; they had both been children when last they had met.  
  
She almost blurted out Tiger Lily's name, but managed to restrain herself, putting one hand to her mouth. Suddenly, Wendy could not help feeling a little silly to have laid out such childlike food, and to be wearing such a simple pink dress made herself from the fabric which Peter had persuaded the fairies to bring her. It was as if she had spent so much time with only the Lost Boys that she had forgotten that there were any adults in Neverland at all.  
  
"How!" the Lost Boys chorused back, trying to make their voices sound as deep as men's. Wendy mouthed the word, but did not quite manage to say it.  
  
Peter was sitting cross-legged in the air, arms folded proudly across his puffed-out chest. "We welcome you to our home," he declared. With a sweep of his hand, he gestured to the food spread out around the fire that the Boys had lit for Wendy. "And we ask you to join us for our great feast."  
  
"We are honoured to be your guests," said Tiger Lily, putting her hand to her chest and bowing slightly. As she straightened up, she glanced over at Wendy, and for a moment there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes before it was folded away again. That ability, at least, Wendy understood.   
  
She turned and nodded to her people, and they arranged themselves around the remaining half of the circle, unfolding skins that they had bought with them to act as seats. The Lost Boys started asking questions all at once, and the Indians took turns answering them, while Tiger Lily looked on with a faint unreadable smile and Wendy, collecting herself as firmly as only a mother can, went to fetch bowls for them to eat out of.  
  
  
  
  
  
Tiger Lily had heard the boys talk about Wendy from time to time, calling her their mother and speaking warmly and enthusiastically about her, but in her mind Wendy Darling had still been the girl of... well, the same age as Tiger Lily had been when they met, she supposed. It had been quite a long time ago, and no time at all to Peter.  
  
She let her men take the questions from the Lost Boys and stayed silent, a little aloof perhaps but not unthinkably so. After all, she had also crossed swords with Captain Hook this time around, even if Peter had been the one to mete out the final defeat. Instead she sat back, and watched how her men acted on the unfamiliar territory of the Lost Boys, until finally her eyes stole to Wendy Darling again.  
  
It had been so many years, and more than that Tiger Lily was astonished to find herself opposite someone who was most definitely a woman rather than a child. Her hair was longer now, though the soft brown curls were the same as Tiger Lily remembers, and she did not wear the blue nightdress of old but a pink gown of some sort, frilly at the shoulders and down to just above her ankles. Her feet, like those of the Lost Boys, were bare.   
  
Growing up among her people was one thing - rare, but not unheard of. But Tiger Lily found herself yearning to know why Wendy of all people had chosen to do so as well, and felt a band of excitement around her chest at the thought of asking.  
  
After the feast - which was a charming change from the food they normally ate in the village, although it was rather too sweet and gave her something of a headache - there were songs, and dances, and though Tiger Lily joined in with the former she held back from the latter as long as she was able to. Other people danced now.  
  
"Come, Chief Tiger Lily!" called Peter above the sound of the drums and flutes that the Lost Boys enthusiastically, if none too tunefully, played. "You must dance for us again!"  
  
"You are kind to ask, Little Flying Eagle," she replied. Perhaps she was sitting a little too close to the fire, to feel so warm, and perhaps it was just her imagination that Wendy hesitated in her clearing up and looked up briefly. "But I no longer dance."  
  
Peter's face became stern. "Little Flying Eagle commands," he said, with finality.  
  
There was no denying Peter, and in any case Tiger Lily's feet felt like they were itching for want of dancing. She held his gaze a moment longer than most would dare without speaking, then set aside her water and rose to her feet. The Lost Boys and her men alike cheered. "Tall Tree," she said, gesturing to one of them. "Play for me."  
  
A drum would be enough, even without a shawl or the full singing and music of her tribe behind her. Her body would remember how to dance.  
  
  
  
  
  
Wendy never meant to stare. It was just that she could not help it, not as Tiger Lily began to move in time with the drums, just steps at first, controlled and precise, then becoming faster and stronger as she danced. Her arms rose, making broad sweeps, and her steps became kicks and jumps, around the fire in circles with the red light licking at her form and making her movements huge in the shadows beyond. The lone drum accompanied her, interspersed with the whoops of her men, and despite all of her restraint Wendy felt the strangest momentary desire to join Tiger Lily in the dance.  
  
It was hypnotic. Every movement of her body was controlled, and even beneath the heavy skin and sturdy boots it showed that she is a warrior and a hunter, a leader in body as well as in mind. The bowl that Wendy had been holding slipped through her fingers and fell to the leaf litter, but she did not really notice. All that mattered was the way that Tiger Lily danced.  
  
The beat of the drum grew faster, so slowly that it was barely noticeable at first, the ground around the fire becoming pounded flat as Tiger Lily whirled with her head thrown back in triumph. Even the Lost Boys did not dare interrupt her steps. Faster and faster the drum pounded, and Tiger Lily's feet kept pace, even as sweat shone on her forehead and her hair whipped behind her.  
  
Then, all too suddenly, it was over, and Tiger Lily stood with one arm thrown high and her chest heaving, and the world returned. It might have been Wendy who started clapping first, but whether it was or not the Lost Boys joined in barely a beat later, whooping and trying to whistle, and Tiger Lily laughed a sudden, adult laugh and made another little curtsey to Peter before sitting down once again.  
  
  
  
  
  
The celebration lasted until at least thirteen o'clock, and Wendy had to carry some of the smaller boys to bed while Peter and Michael were still talking enthusiastically to the Indians. She was just tucking Michael in, rubbing the green stripes off his cheeks and stroking his hair, when the door opened behind her.  
  
She turned, surprised even to think that one of the older Lost Boys would think to come to bed of their own accord, utterly speechless when she found herself face-to-face with Tiger Lily.  
  
"How," said Tiger Lily, holding up one palm.  
  
"Good evening," said Wendy, holding up a palm as well. Then she caught herself, and extended her hand to shake. "I mean, how. I mean..."  
  
Tiger Lily laughed again, like they were sharing a secret. "It is fine. I understand that you are to thank for much of this evening's celebrations."  
  
The heat rose in Wendy's cheeks, and she twined her fingers into the skirt of her dress. It was meant to look like _her_ mother's, or at least what she was fairly sure that her mother had worn, once. Memories of a time before Neverland grew mistier with time, but perhaps that was to better prevent them from hurting. "Well, you know, Peter was the one who led the boys to defeat the pirates. I'm just-"  
  
"Their mother," said Tiger Lily. "About which there is no 'just'."  
  
If Wendy had been blushing a little before, she must surely by now have been more pink than the dress which she wore. "You are very kind to say so," she said.  
  
For a moment longer, Tiger Lily stood there, framed by the wooden doorway and smiling... almost nervously. But that was not right, of course, it was not as if she would be nervous, and Wendy told herself that she must simply not be used to talking to adults like this. Yes, that had to be it. "I should go," she said.  
  
"Yes," said Wendy. "I mean, I should go as well. Make sure that the Boys are safely in bed."  
  
But before she could really manage to say anything sensible at all, Tiger Lily was gone, and it was just her and the sleeping Boys. Wendy smoothed down her dress and patted her hair, although her curls were still as perfect as ever, and took a deep breath. Perhaps it had not been a good idea to hold the celebration here. Next time, she must tell Peter, they would have to have the pow-wow at the Indian village once again.  
  
  
  
  
  
It was some days later that Toz, one of the littlest Lost Boys, came running back into the house shouting, "Mother! Mother! There's someone here to see you!"  
  
Wendy looked up from the book in which she had been writing down the previous night's stories in surprise. The Boys did not usually bother her between lunchtime and supper, unless it was to sneak some food out of the pantry or to say that someone had fallen and bruised their knee. "Why, whatever do you mean?" she said, getting to her feet and setting aside her quill. "A visitor!"  
  
"Uh-huh," said Toz, nodding rapidly. "'S Chief Tiger Lily, she asked for you 'specially."  
  
For a moment the whole notion sounded ridiculous, and Wendy was not at all sure that the Boys were not playing tricks on her again. But Toz was not very good at tricks, and surely they would have sent someone who might have a chance of fooling her, so she extended her hand. "Very well, then. Let's go back outside."  
  
She allowed him to lead her out by the hand, though she had to duck her head through the doorways nowadays. The old tree itself had plenty of room for her to stand upright, but somehow neither it nor Peter could quite get the hang of making doors large enough for Wendy to walk easily through.  
  
The Boys were playing some loud game involving running around and throwing a ball to each other, to which Wendy had never managed to learn the rules because they seemed to change even in the middle of games. Standing at the edge of the clearing, watching with a serene smile, was Tiger Lily.  
  
Realising that she was still wearing her apron, Wendy hastily removed it and let it fall at the foot of the tree. "Chief Tiger Lily," she said, walking over with her heart feeling almost as if it was fluttering. "What a pleasure to see you again."  
  
"Mother Wendy," Tiger Lily replied, making it sound more reverent than any of the Lost Boys ever had (although this could, of course, have been due to the fact that none of the boys knew that the word reverent even existed). "May I talk with you for a while?"  
  
For the second time in not very long at all, Wendy found herself flustered and not at all sure what to say. She could see, though, that several of the boys were watching curiously, and smiled. "Of course. Shall we go for a walk?" she gestured towards the surrounding forest.  
  
Tiger Lily's smile was the most difficult thing to understand that Wendy had ever come across. But it didn't make her want to stop trying. "That would be nice."  
  
  
  
  
  
One is never far from the sea in Neverland, and without ever quite agreeing to it aloud they found themselves walking there, to look out over the deep, deep blue of the sea, the brighter blue of the sky and the pink-and-white clouds that floated like cotton candy above it all. There were often shapes to be seen in the clouds, but somehow Tiger Lily found herself too tongue-tied to talk about them.  
  
She had wanted desperately to talk to Wendy Darling from the moment that she had seen her again - another girl who chose to become a woman in Neverland. Instead, she found herself wondering whether it would be appropriate to point out the cloud that looked a little like a four-leafed clover.  
  
"I must say, thank you for coming to talk to me," said Wendy, catching her by surprise. "It made me realise how much time I had spent with just the Lost Boys."  
  
The sea smelt of salt, and a cool wind ruffled the fringe of her dress. "You get used to seeing the same faces, in Neverland," Tiger Lily replied. "Though you and I look a little different, I think."  
  
She glanced across just in time to see Wendy look away. The other woman didn't seem to be able to reply to that.  
  
"It's easy for children to stay children, I think," Tiger Lily continued after a moment. "But there are some things that children can't do."  
  
"And things that they don't need to do," added Wendy, looking round and smiling at last. Her eyes were the same blue as the sky. "I'm not sure that any of the boys had darned a sock in their lifetime."  
  
"You wanted to look after them," said Tiger Lily. Perhaps she should have seen it sooner, in the way that Wendy spoke to the boys, cared for them. It was not that the caring had come with the growing up; the growing up had come with the caring.  
  
Wendy looked at her curiously. "And you?"  
  
"I... wanted to look after my people," she said softly. Somehow it was as if she only realised it when she spoke the words aloud. "The Pirates are getting worse, I think, and things can change in Neverland if we think of them. We just need to do the thinking."  
  
"That is a very fine way to put it," said Wendy.  
  
  
  
  
  
They started to meet and talk more often after that, walking in the woods or along the clifftops, or sitting in sheltered groves. Wendy had not realised that she would miss having someone to talk to about what she had experienced - about growing up, and seeing things changing and not changing.  
  
The weather grew hotter, perhaps because Peter wanted more of a summer this year, and Wendy took to wearing simpler gowns, in light fabric and with short sleeves. Her arms freckled a little, but nobody ever got sunburnt in Neverland, and her telling the boys to be careful in the hottest parts of the day was really only a precaution. Even Tiger Lily began to expose her arms and take off her boots as they sat beside a stream or pool.  
  
"How did you get that?" said Wendy, frowning and taking hold of Tiger Lily's arm. A scar, still a little red with newness, ran almost from wrist to elbow on the outside.  
  
Tiger Lily looked down, and shrugged. "A tussle with the pirates. We won, do not worry."  
  
"They boys never come home with injuries like this," she murmured, frowning. The thought of the boys with such a hurt was... impossible. Childhood hurts should be mended with a kiss and a sticking plaster, soon to be forgotten. "They only get bumps and scrapes."  
  
"Neverland knows what we can bear," said Tiger Lily. Indeed, she had hardly felt the wound at the time, though the pirate's cutlass had cut almost down to the bone. Only after the battle had cooled had she realised how bad the wound was, and bound up her arm to go home to the medicine man. "It never gives us more than we can handle."  
  
Wendy's hands were very cool against her skin, and markedly pale. Her nails were neat ovals, and made Tiger Lily very aware of the dirt beneath her own nails.  
  
"Don't worry," she added, finding a smile. "I won't show it to the Lost Boys. They might want one."  
  
It was worth it to hear Wendy laugh.  
  
  
  
  
  
Sometimes, Wendy talked about England. She did not remember much, but what she recalled had the vivid vagueness of dreams, and Tiger Lily would willingly listen to hours as she talked about her long-gone childhood-before-childhood, before Neverland. Tiger Lily had never been to another world, or flown, or known anything other than this place, and it was strange indeed to hear about a world that was so very different, and did not seem to follow the right sort of rules at all.  
  
"It does not seem right," she said, as they sat bathing their feet in the stream, "that people should all be forced to do the same thing. It would be a very boring world if everyone had to grow up."  
  
Wendy laughed. "Why yes, I suppose it was. But then again, they would have said that Neverland was a strange place, where no two people had to follow the same rules."  
  
"There are still rules," said Tiger Lily, but it was amiable. She undid her braids, to let her hair fall free down her back, and the way that Wendy's eyes traced it made her breath hitch. "They are just... different."  
  
"Flexible," suggested Wendy.  
  
"Exactly." Tiger Lily kicked one foot, to send a spray of water droplets into the air. For a moment, a rainbow shimmered through them, then vanished again. "There are children in my village who were children before I was born, and they are happy to go on being children. That seems right, to me. And there are adults who are happy to go on being adults. Everyone can get just as much childhood as they wish before they need to move on."  
  
"Do..." Wendy trailed off and looked away again, which Tiger Lily was coming to recognise as a sign that she had a question which she thought was indelicate. Tiger Lily waited, though; Wendy was getting bolder, with time, about asking them. "Do people die, in your village? I mean, obviously the Lost Boys don't, some of them just grow up and leave, but I recall that people back in England had to die."  
  
"Sometimes people just... aren't there, any more," admitted Tiger Lily. It was a strange feeling when someone left - and that was the only way that they could think of it, because how could it be death if it was by choice - sort of hollow and aching for a while, but they had gone to a better place. They all knew that, as well, because where would one go by choice but a better place? She had tried, once or twice, to think harder on the matter, but it had set her head throbbing and Peter had looked at her very strangely the next time that they crossed paths. "And sometimes new babies are just... there, when women want to be mothers. They come in the night, I think."  
  
Wendy nods, slowly. "I never did find out where babies came from in England," she said quietly. "Though I suppose it doesn't matter now. I have my children, after all."  
  
There is a strange clench in Tiger Lily's belly, lower down even than when she forgets to eat and winds up hungry. She runs her hand down Wendy's arm, and Wendy gives a graceful smile. They are becoming more comfortable with such gestures over time, even being so bold as to hold hands on occasion, and Tiger Lily is not sure why it _should_ matter when she is unafraid to embrace members of her tribe, to spar and wrestle with them. But Wendy is different, soft and tender but with a heart like the strongest tree trunk, whose branches may wave in the wind but whose roots will never be torn up.  
  
  
  
  
  
It would not be quite true to say that Wendy had _missed_ adult company, for the only time she had ever really been among it was while she was still a child, and it had seemed terribly, terribly dull. Oh, there had been a time or two when she had needed to retrieve the boys from the Indian warriors whom they had antagonised a little too much, and even one pulse-quickening occasion when she had spoken to two marauding pirates for long enough for Peter and the Lost Boys to come to her rescue with swords and slings. But that was not _company_.  
  
More truthful would be to say that she had never known adult company in the first place to appreciate it. And oh, but she did appreciate her time with Tiger Lily - talking about things that had happened, things that they wanted to happen, things that would never happen at all but were fun to talk about all the same. And they could talk even about what it had been like to _grow up_ , a subject which was utterly taboo among the Lost Boys because they did not want it and Peter did not want them to want it.  
  
Tiger Lily taught Wendy how to braid her hair; it was something that Wendy had never needed to know before, having only sons, but there was something charming about sitting there and learning by undoing and redoing Tiger Lily's glossy black braids. The first time, the plait she produced was so wildly different from the neat partner on Tiger Lily's other shoulder that she could not restrain herself, and burst out laughing at the mere sight. Tiger Lily gave her an amused look, and simply suggested that she try again.  
  
She got better. Her work was never the equal of Tiger Lily's; she could not figure out how to weave in the ribbons or beads that the Indian woman could. But she could at least do her own hair, and when she did so she found herself thinking all over again of the one who had taught her.  
  
  
  
  
  
One day, Tiger Lily was late for their meeting, and though Wendy would not admit it she grew concerned as the night grew dark and the Lost Boys finally slipped into dreams. The dreamcatchers, a gift from Tiger Lily as well, fluttered in the windows as they caught the bad dreams that tried to sneak into the boys' heads.  
  
Night grew, and waned, and when Wendy had given the boys breakfast and sent them out to play for the day, she told Peter that she had errands to run. An immediate, mischievious light set up in his eyes; he did so love days that she was not around, as if he had forgotten that there had been so much time when that was the case anyway. She put on a pair of sensible shoes, and a sunhat, and kissed each of the boys on the forehead, and hid a smile as they pulled disgusted faces and wiped the invisible marks away.  
  
It took quite some time to walk to the Indian Village. As she grew closer, her nerves grew ever tighter, uncertain of what she would find there or even whether she would be allowed to enter. For some reason, the thought that Tiger Lily would not want to speak to her was terrible. But the thought that she had not been _able_ to come, had wanted to but been detained, was even worse.  
  
She ran into a girl collecting firewood on the edge of the village; the girl shrank back at first from the sight of her, and Wendy supposed that it must be unthinkable to see an adult who is neither an Indian nor a pirate. But she wore no pirate garb, and was plainly not from their village, and the girl's eyes widened as Wendy held up her hands peacably.  
  
"My name is Wendy Darling. I'm... the Lost Boys' mother. I wish to speak to your Chief, Tiger Lily."  
  
The girl looked her up and down, gaze becoming a little more calculating. "You are Wendy Lost Bird?"  
  
"Well, I suppose so, yes," she said. They had called her the Wendybird, long ago, and perhaps some of that had moved its way across.  
  
With a sharp nod, the girl bundled her firewood to her chest. "Come."  
  
Without any further warning, she darted away into the tree, and Wendy had to pick up the hem of her skirts and run to keep up. The girl was nimble and knew these woods well, and it had been so, so many years since Wendy had even seen this place, but mercifully she managed to keep up for long enough that she could see thin plumes of smoke going up from the cooking fires.  
  
Wendy was quite breathless by the time that she reached the edge of the village, in time to see the young girl standing up on tiptoes to whisper into the ear of a man who looked similar enough that he might have been her father. He, too, looked Wendy up and down, then nodded and gestured for her to follow him further into the village.  
  
She did not know what to expect as she was led to one of the larged teepees and gestured to enter. Even all those years ago, she had never been inside one. She ducked her head, blinking at the change from bright sunshine to dim interior, to see a woman lying on a blanket with a little old man sat beside her, with long white hair and intricate beading on his robes. It took her a moment longer to even recognise the woman, pale as she was and with lines of pain around her eyes.  
  
"Tiger Lily!" Wendy cried, dropping to her knees beside the bed. She reached for the woman's hand, and found it cold.  
  
But Tiger Lily's eyes fluttered open, and they were still the same deep brown that Wendy remembered. Frowning, Tiger Lily glanced over to the man at the far side of her bed, who nodded and mumbled something, before turning back. "Sorry," she said ruefully. "I wasn't sure you were real. What are you doing here?"  
  
"I came to find you," said Wendy. "You didn't come, and... oh, what happened?"  
  
"Rotten John," replied Tiger Lily. The side of her mouth twitched slightly towards a smile. "I made him regret it, though. The pirates took most of him back."  
  
The thought of bloodshed made Wendy feel a little faint; not for the thought of blood itself, because everyone knows that mothers are made of sterner stuff than that, but at the fear that something like this could happen to the Lost Boys - and at the terrible, bone-deep fear that she could have lost Tiger Lily.  
  
On impulse, she raised Tiger Lily's hand and wrapped both of her own around it, as if she was trying to wrap in the warmth of her own skin. Tiger Lily squeezed back, still firm, and Wendy bent her head so that her lips brushed across the bloodied knuckles. Only then did a flicker of uncertainty pass across Tiger Lily's face.  
  
"I'm just glad that..." she could not even bring herself to say any of the things which she had feared.  
  
"I know," said Tiger Lily quietly. She ran her thumb across Wendy's hand. "Remember. Neverland never gives us what we cannot take."  
  
  
  
  
  
It became a new part of her routine. She would pass the morning with the Lost Boys, then sent them out to play in the interminable halcyon afternoon while she went to check on Tiger Lily. Her friend - and it was so strange to think of having a friend, after so long with just the Lost Boys - recovered quickly, sitting up within a few days and walking around in a few more. She finally admitted what had happened - that one of the pirates had cut her open from rib to hip on her right side, though by grace she would have nothing but a mighty scar in a few weeks.  
  
"I was so frightened," Wendy admitted finally, as they sat watching the sunset on the very edge of the cliff. She had never said anything like that, because children's fears are very different from those of adults, and because mothers are never afraid at all. Or at least, they are never supposed to be afraid, and so can never say as such to her children. "I feared that I had lost you."  
  
Tiger Lily's fingers were twined through hers, the gesture feeling so natural now, so comfortable. Wendy wasn't sure whether it ought to, but there were places in Neverland where the rules had... not been made. And so needed to be.  
  
"Perhaps I can help with that," said Tiger Lily. She took Wendy's hand and held it to the centre of her chest, where Wendy could feel the faint beat of her heart. She could also feel the heat and softness of Tiger Lily's skin, the rise and fall of her breasts with each breath, and it made her feel hot and trembling under her skin in turn. "Does that help?"  
  
"A little," Wendy whispered.  
  
Leaving Wendy's hand resting there, Tiger Lily reached up to cup her jaw, rough skin and gentle touch both together. "How about that?"  
  
Her heart was beating faster, and she could feel that Tiger Lily's was as well. "A little more."  
  
Perhaps there was half a request in it, words which she could not say, could only imply. But it seemed that Tiger Lily understood, for her hand traced down until her thumb brushed the very corner of Wendy's mouth, where a kiss had been seen so long ago, forgotten for so many years.  
  
"Then perhaps I should do a little more," murmured Tiger Lily, and leant in. Wendy understood in a heartbeat; she found herself leaning in as well, breathless before their lips even met. It was barely more than a touch from Tiger Lily, the gentlest of pressures before she began to draw away, and it was Wendy who leant in to kiss her again, their noses bumping slightly and Tiger Lily swaying back for a moment before leaning in again, her lips warm and soft.  
  
She wasn't sure how many times they kissed, all the kisses melding into each other, and it was more complicated and ragged around the edges than she had thought but _better_ , so much better than she could ever have imagined. When Tiger Lily drew away again, Wendy looked up with hungry eyes, but it was still so fine to see the light in Tiger Lily's eyes, the glow of a woman and the strength of a chief together.  
  
"And that?" she said.  
  
It took a moment for Wendy to even interpret the question, and then she found herself laughing with soft delight. "Yes," she said. "Yes, that helps very much indeed." She reached over to push Tiger Lily's braid over her shoulder, letting her fingers trail over the other woman's neck as she did so. "I just... I'm glad that you're all right."  
  
"I am, and will continue to be." Tiger Lily planted the lightest of pecks to the tip of Wendy's nose. "And you can come and check on me whenever you so wish."  
  
"I'm glad to hear that," said Wendy. "We shall have to do so."  
  
She reached down, and let her fingers intertwine with Tiger Lily's once again. Another adventure, she supposed, and another set of rules to find. Perhaps it was time to set out in search of them.


End file.
